The Best Thing That Could Happen
by Treasurer
Summary: "They could mean nothing if he'd just let them. He didn't need them like he needed her." No real setting. A lot of run on sentences and emotional downpours. One shot. Rated M for language and sexual situations. Enjoy.


**Author's note: All girls need some lovin, don't be afraid to leave a review. ;]**

It was summer nights and he was so perfect. All honey colored skin and chocolate eyes. White teeth and hard lines everywhere. So secure and safe and he sometimes called her home. He was warm and his smile was always inviting. She liked to grab his arms while he grabbed her hips. They were powerful and lean and he could pick her up and run around the house like she weighed nothing. He liked to pretend he hadn't a clue at how fucking gorgeous he was. Like it was a mystery.

He had freckles on his neck and his chest and his back and she liked to kiss them all because they were his one insecurity. She had a million and he kissed them all, too.

Where he was hard, she was soft. Her stomach wasn't firm or even flat. Her little pooch belly and her huge tits and her bubbly ass. She was all curve and he liked to bite and kiss it all. He made her feel like he loved it.

His hair had gotten so long. His ego grew with it. When his hair was shorter he didn't flirt as much with the girls that gave him attention.

She found it sexy, too. She'd grab at it and pull it and dig her fingers through it like it was butter when he was licking and biting and sucking and everything you could ever want between her thighs.

He called her dessert.

But god how she wanted him to cut his hair all off. Maybe then he wouldn't say he was confused and maybe then he'd stop texting them back and _maybe then he could be hers always._ She was a fool. She was supposed to stop doing this a long time ago, when he called things off and they somehow became a complicated mess of best friends with romantic benefits.

He was horrible and she cried all the time and why wasn't she good enough? But he was just too sweet and big eyes and all frustration. And she knew. She just knew.

He didn't want to be this asshole. He wanted to love her. He wanted her every morning and he wanted to kiss her hair and whisper good morning in her ear and talk about their kid's names but he just had something wrong with him.

But it was her, it was all her. Going crazy because he didn't call and was he with her? Or what about her? Or _that _girl. One girl was skinnier and had been his lover for five years. And the other was wild and free and didn't need him and that wasn't that always the most attractive? And her her her who called him all the time and slept with him after he broke things off and lived far away but still just called. She wanted to travel 2000 miles and beat the ever living shit out of her.

They could mean nothing if he'd just let them. He didn't need them like he needed her.

He knew that, she knew that.

She was warm kisses and I love you's and baking cookies and reading a book that would take her forever to finish and writing a book she'd never show anybody and just kisses all the time. She was so devoted. She wore maxi dresses with floral prints and big sweaters and was always barefoot with little red toes and she didn't even know she was humming while she read and she laughed at diarrhea jokes and quoted Kerouac and Fitzgerald.

She couldn't be anything else. She didn't know how to be anything but half mad or sweet. There was no middle ground and maybe that was the problem.

He kissed her friends and made love to her the same nights. She played stupid and took his I love you's and I'm sorry's and If I wasn't so stupid's because she wanted to believe him and she liked to pretend he was hers, if only for a night.

And he _was_ hers.

No one can do that the way you can and oh god I want to marry you and why would I even bother anything You you you you. I love you. Let's get married. So much fucking flesh, oh my god when did you learn that and home, I'm home.

She'd take it and she'd eat it up and say yes yes let's get married and she knew that it wouldn't mean anything tomorrow. He'd cuddle her to sleep and all night they would wake up and kiss and turn around and limbs wrapped around each other always. But tomorrow after kisses and hugs when she'd leave, they'd start all over again.

He would hug her and talk to her when they were at a mutual place to hang out but he would also ignore her texts and not pick up her phone calls and she'd cry in her room and he'd feel shitty and call her late at night and whisper sorry and what're you doing and hum at her sleepy noises and if he was feeling abusive he'd even ask her to come over to his bed and she'd always say yes.

They'd make love on his twin mattress on the floor and push over stacks of books and sheets of paper with lyrics he had written about their love affair. And he'd touch her so sweetly and convincingly and it was as if he only made love to her.

He would leave hickeys all over her breasts and if she tried to do the same, he usually said no. When they were together, he never did. She marred his neck all over and his arms and his chest and once even his chin. He wore them proudly and only half assed bitched about it to give her a hard time.

She cried once in his bed and she wanted to die. Laying around after making love and caressing each others skin and he was kissing her little head and curling legs around each other and he asked her if they had ever gone and seen a movie together.

No, they had not. And then she remembered all the things they had yet to do and she couldn't help herself. She was crying and sniffling and saying she was sorry and he was wide eyed and wiping and kissing tears away and shh shh crooning I love you, stop it, what's wrong? It's okay. It's okay.

And this is why she loved him. He took her to a movie the next night. One he didn't want to see, but she had been talking about for months and he took her to dinner and he drove her around and held her hand in public and kissed her in public and he seemed proud to be seen with her.

He always had a way of making her feel better about feeling so shitty about him.

He hacked away her self esteem and then tried to build it up even taller.

She felt like such a game. A puzzle, a project to fill the time.

He could be so cold, so calculating. His temper was the most frightening thing she had seen. He'd thrown her out of his house a few times telling her he didn't want to see her and to leave leave leave leave. She'd cry and sometimes she'd stay and then he'd eventually grab her and drag her to his bed and call her stubborn and wrap his arms around her and bury his face in her neck and place kisses there for her to keep. But sometimes she'd leave and she'd scream in her car and smoke and smoke and go into hysterics just hoping he'd come out and apologize hoping he'd tell her to come to bed. Just please care enough to come back. Don't you care?

Everything was so hard with him, everything was a battle and a fight and she lost more than she won and even her winnings were so tainted.

When was the last time he touched another girl?

Last night? A week ago? Two weeks ago? She never knew.

Sometimes she got drunk and turned off her phone and went to parties. And once, she even kissed a guy. He was cute and nothing at all like her lover. He was pale and skinny and taller than her, but not as tall as him. He wore brand name clothes and seemed to care how his shoes looked. He was a good kisser and he went down on her like it was no big deal to meet a girl and do that and she didn't know what to do but enjoy it. She put his cock in her mouth and was surprised to find it was thicker than her honeycomb boy and then she just missed it. She called him after.

Can I come over baby? I'm too drunk to drive all the way home. Can I sleep over, please?

And of course he said yes because it was four in the morning and he didn't want her driving on the streets or with someone she didn't know and he was so unsuspecting as he put his lips on hers that another man's cock had been there. Where his mouth was, so was pretty boy's. And he fucked her that night and she wondered how many times he had done this to her. How many times had she wrapped her lips around his cock when someone else already had?

So why did she feel so guilty?

He told her he wished he could be like her. So devoted and true and sweet and just so knowing. He loved everything about her that he wasn't. Where she was sure he was so confused.

She ruined that a little.

He would never know. She would never let him know.

Always so afraid of losing the loose grip she had on him. Everyone knew that Bella belonged to Jake. What was harder to remember was that a lot of the time Jacob belonged to her. She had to remind him everyday and anything could set it all off.

The nights he'd tell her to go, she had always said something. Something true that upset him. One time she said he put no weight into the words he gave her, once it had been that she had said she didn't know if she would date him again if he asked her back out right away. His smiles would turn and he'd get so calm looking and tell her to leave and she'd scream and cry immediately like a dying woman begging for her life.

She had been relatively sane when she met him. She was as stable as a fun house now.

He was always so calm when he said horrible things. Like he had no emotions.

Jacob was either sunshine or nothing. Not a hurricane or a storm, but a bleak blankness that meant so much more than a scream or a yell or a push or a shove. She loved it when he pushed her or slapped her back. It was passion and it was sexy and it was fierce. But she hated, hated his indifference.

Indifference was the opposite of love.

So many confuse it for hate. When you hate someone, you still love them enough to care. Half the time Bella hated him. No, The opposite of love was indifference. It was horrible. It was when you didn't care whether the person cried or laughed or breathed or sang or gave kisses or did anything at all.

How could he not care or even act like it?

Bella couldn't stop blushing when he even looked at her. She couldn't pretend anything with him because all she felt was passion and angst and desperation and she had never been so stupid stupid stupid in her life.

What was she waiting for? A proposal or another I love you or another half assed promise that they both knew he wouldn't keep?

She'd grow resentful but that would all crumble when he kissed her stupid face and he took handfuls of her ass and asked her to come over and share a bottle of moscato with him and read.

She loved it more though when he invited her over and they cuddled up on his couch downstairs in front of all of his roommates and watched late night comedies and he fed her popcorn and kissed her forehead and whispered conspiringly in her ear.

They were smilers. Smiley smiling lovers.

They were lovers. And she wanted to love him for the rest of her life.

She wanted him to kiss her toes in the morning and to braid their daughters' hair and she wanted him to sing folk songs to her all night and she wanted him to show her new movies and new books and to tell her crazy American folklore and she wanted to wake up next to him everyday for the rest of her life.

He couldn't stand it when another guy even talked to her. He'd watch from the distance as some guy tried to chat her up. She was so clueless, she never knew when she was being hit on. Too insecure to realize that she was an_ ideal._ She was tiny but curvy and not at all chubby as he had to protest all the time and had a little heart face and doe eyes and her hair was all waves and she had milk and peaches skin that had to be the most perfect thing any guy had ever seen and _so_ soft. She felt like a peach and she looked like a peach. And god she was just as juicy to suck on as a peach. He liked to think about her dripping off of his chin and he hated to because he didn't deserve to love her.

He wasn't a good person and he fucked the perfection they had. They used to be so perfect but he was at the opposite end of a party, and she was feeling insecure so she was letting a guy entertain her and he was getting close to her. Too close. He had to have been a fool. Everyone knew Bella was Jake's. He had gotten into more fights over Bella than she knew. But this one time, he had to beat the shit out of this guy right in front of her. No one touched his Bella Marie, his little baby who couldn't hurt a fly.

Bella thought it was ridiculous. The guy put his hand on her shoulder and now his face was fucked because Jacob couldn't take it.

She took his outrageous jealousy because it meant love and it meant passion and it was anything but indifference.

He'd fuck the shit out of her later and he'd probably bruise her all over and wouldn't let her come until she said she was his and he'd chant mine mine mine mine while he was coming inside her and she would be so angry because it wasn't really true.

She didn't really belong to anyone. He didn't really want her. He'd have her if he wanted her.

She threw herself at him any chance she got. She held his hair back when he got sick and she came over when he couldn't sleep and wanted to talk and she did everything for him and sometimes he did too but not the same.

He didn't know why he was doing this. He knew he was making the biggest mistake of his life. She called him cry cry crying the way she does with her hiccoughs and her stutters, Just tell me that you love me. I don't care about anything else. Please, _please_ just tell me you still love me. He was at his ex's house and he had just fucked her brains out like he used to and that girl just hated him but she loved him and she was always letting him know she wanted him back and to please love her again and they were meant to be and he just wanted her to shut up always.

What was he doing over here? This wasn't real or good or anything worth all of this pain.

Of course I love you, but-

No, no. She cried, she screamed No Buts! Don't start. Please, please please please do you love me? Just say it.

Isabella Marie, I love you.

Thank you.

She hung up the phone and he came back into bed and his ex tried to kiss him but her kisses burned and stung and what was he doing naked in her bed, talking to this girl like she was an option? There wasn't another option.

His only option was the girl who sang Jeff Buckley out of key and hated having to tie her shoes and ate avocados like pudding and picked her nose no matter if he was looking or not. Her, her, her. It had always been her. It had always been sunshine hair and giggle snorts and dress collections and nothing else.

Hey baby, his ex sang, who called?

He wanted to say love of my life, home, peaches and cream. The best.

My mom, he said, let's go to sleep.

And it was the worst thing in the history of love that could happen.

He could change if he just tried and he did.

Where is he? Where is he? She was screaming at his roommates and calling all of his friends and no one had a clue. He was gone his phone was off and she was dying. He ran off with some girl. He just left. He left her here and she was really all alone this time and no one would help her. No one cared and oh god. Where was he?

Calm down, shh, hey, guess what? I love you and only you and I left for days and sorry my phone was off but I'm calling you now. I had to think, I had to be alone to think. I could only think of you Bella. It was your goofy smile and your silly voices and you biting your lip and you you you.. Please, I'm so sorry.

Slow but sweet she became his only and everyone noticed and girls freaked out and blew up his phone and that stupid bitch Bella again? I thought you were through with her. I love you, please. Not her.

No, I'm not. I never was. It's always been her. Her her her her.

And she was over every night and he made love to her and he'd say who's am I?

And she started smiling more and she'd say mine mine mine and he'd kiss her knees and her thighs and her pussy and she'd mew and arch and whimper and he'd look up, and he'd say home home home.

Many quiet nights in bed, naked cuddling. His scared wide eyes, his fears.

I could never make it up to you.

Yes yes you can you could you are. Shh.

I've fucked it up too much, this could never work.

Always a cop out. It's a cop out. You're backing out. You don't want this. You're a liar.

I'm sorry I'm sorry don't cry shh shh.

Always comforting the other. Always trying to remind each other hey, I love you.

But, alfredo and wine and bread and sex in the shower and sex in the woods and why won't you let me be your girlfriend?

You're my favorite and my only and don't worry. Why isn't that enough?

Why can't you just be my boyfriend? Tears and hysteria and oh gods hyperventilating.

I love you and I want you forever and I kiss you always and you're here always and I see no one but you.

Why won't you just be mine-

I am yours.

You're not you're not you're not. No no no no.

She was always so afraid to lose him. Nothing could keep him. He'd leave her again. He couldn't even give it a title. Because what if what if what if something else happens?

You just don't want to have to feel bad if you get scared and run off like you did.

That's not true.

It is it is it is.

She could be such a petulant child, and he loved it as much he despised it.

She got so angry when she drank with him. She said mean things and she said hurtful things and he'd get mad but usually he just brushed it off and tried to calm her irrational thoughts with sweet words that she spit back at him with vitriol. Nothing he did would ever be good enough.

She only wanted to be his girlfriend.

Fuck titles and fuck the bullshit. Being a girlfriend meant something. It meant more than committed romantic lovers.

It meant a promise that went further than the moment. It meant you were thinking about a future and it meant that I love you and I want to be with you always.

He made promises that would suggest he was going to ask her out but he never did anything to act upon them.

She'd go home and cry after a few days with him. He was only saying anything sweet to keep her close.

He wanted her but he didn't want her to have him.

He didn't want to share but he didn't just want to taste her.

It upset her to the point of emotional exhaustion. He was a murderer, he was killing her. Filling her with more and more hope and just taking it all back like always. He always did.

Even if she could leave him, even if she could say no to him and not feel so tethered he'd have to have ruined her.

Love seemed so bleak.

She didn't see a future without him.

It was him and only him. Always.

He was so smart and kind and caring and a great friend and an amazing lover and he wanted to marry her and have a house and fourteen kids and be poor as hell with her and she just needed to stop doubting him and let him prove himself to her.

Why wouldn't she stop being so fucking nuts? He loved it and he loved her crazy outbursts and he just wanted this storm around them to end. He wanted their easy flow back, he wanted the honey and the milk and the peaches back.

Bus rides and hotel rooms and packing for cold weather and snow boots and big sweaters and running away.

Let's run away, you and me? Okay? You're mine and all mine and there is no one else to tell us what is true and what isn't and I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I'm all yours. All yours and don't you ever doubt that okay? Kiss me and hold me and don't you know how scared I am?

How could you love me Bella, I'm selfish and pathetic and live in my head and don't tell anyone a thing and I can't even look at myself in the mirror. How could you love me? Don't you understand? I've always been so scared that you'll realize how horrible I am and how perfect you are and then you'd leave leave leave me.

Don't leave me, please, I love you. Run away lets go come on I'll take care of your little toes and you can stay at home all day and cook me food like you want and Ill love you forever. I'll marry you and kiss you and sing you songs and just leave with me okay? Can you do that? Can you leave everything but me?

Oh oh oh why why why

Yes yes yes and kisses forever and don't look back and thank god you're sorry. Let's go, let's go. Can't leave soon enough.

And it was the best thing in the history of love that could happen.


End file.
